vituperation

December 11, 2002

Imagine, if you will, a scene.

You’re deep in the woods, striding with great purpose up the side of a not-too-steep mountain. Your hiking boots are crunching the leaves loudly beneath your feet, and the pack on your back sways gently from side to side with each step. In your right hand you carry your walking stick - a shoulder-high and gnarled piece of wood you found in the woods almost as though it had been placed for you - feeling like a combination of Gandalf and Moses.

As you walk up the hill it suddenly steepens and the ground grows rocky. Before long, you find yourself climbing rocks rather than merely walking up a hill. Just as you reach the top, the pinnacle of your climb, you realize that the last ten feet are the hardest of all. Slowly you work your way up to the top, worming your way up through a cleft in the rocks until you’re there.

You stand tall and turn, viewing all the unspoiled beauty that nature has to offer. You relish the sense of belonging you feel coursing through your bones. You can’t hear a single sound - no construction, no cars, no people. You have become one with nature.

And then your cell phone rings and when you answer it, your wife asks you to pick up bran flakes on your way home.

On the geocaching web site, in the section offering advice for placing a cache, the following text appears:

“If you place the cache on public lands you need to contact the managing agency to find out about their rules.”

Sounds simple, right? And yes, I know I said I wasn’t going to write about geocaching any more but dammit, nothing’s happening in my life right now but work and geocaching, so deal with it.

I wanted to hide my first geocache on Rainbow Mountain, which is in Madison proper, so I used my incredible logical mind (and the fact that the sign at the park has “The Land Trust” literally written all over it) to determine that I should probably contact the Land Trust to ask about placing a geocache there.

There are already three caches hidden on Rainbow Mountain, two of which I have found and one which I’m too chicken to try and find because of its location atop a big scary rock, so I thought no problem, they’ll get right back to me and give me permission. I emailed them over the weekend and got a response Monday morning.

Thanks for writing, Fred, it said (paraphrased), but the Land Trust doesn’t have jurisdiction over Rainbow Mountain. You need to contact Johnny Snowstorm in Madison; he’s in charge of Rainbow Mountain. The email listed Mr. Snowstorm’s phone number, and I tried to call him all afternoon Monday to no avail. Tuesday morning, however, he answered the phone.

“Hi, Mr. Snowstorm,” I said, “my name is Fred and blah blah blah…” I told him I’d like to place a geocache on Rainbow Mountain and wanted to run it by him, but since there were already three up there everything was probably fine and dandy.

Mr. Snowstorm, the man in charge of the park where three geocaches are hidden, had never heard of geocaching because no one had ever asked about putting a geocache in the park. Fortunately after I explained it to him he didn’t see a problem with it and said it sounded like a fun game.

“It’s okay with me,” he said, “but you really need to check with the Mayor’s office to make sure. They might tell you to ask me and if they do I’ll approve it, but you should talk to them.”

He gave me the number to the Mayor’s office and I called. I went through my entire spiel again, because the Mayor’s office had never heard of geocaching either, despite the fact that there are three geocaches hidden in the park and the site specifically mentions talking to the land managers about it.

“That sounds like fun,” the office assistant told me, “and here’s what you need to do. Send an email to the Mayor’s office and address it to Jolene, the Mayor’s assistant. I’ll tell her to expect it and she’ll talk with the mayor and let you know.”

After we hung up I wrote a long email to the Mayor’s office, iterating once again what geocaching entails and explaining how geocachers wouldn’t destroy the mountain in their quest for my cache. I sent the email and began my wait. After about three hours I got a response from the Mayor’s assistant.

Thanks for asking us about this, Fred, it said (again paraphrased), I’ve discussed this with the Mayor and she gives her permission, with the following caveat: You (or anyone else) may not place your geocache on that big scary rock where there’s one already hidden.

Damn.

My first foray into placing a cache and I’m screwing it up for everyone else because I followed the rules and asked.

On a lighter note, I’m official, so if you live in the area and want a Robyn-made Christmas tree ornament, you best get going. I’ve already made my second cache, but I don’t know where I want to hide it yet. Probably on another mountain around here.